David's Redemption
by NerdyRavenclaw
Summary: David's daughter comes out to him, how will he handle it?


**A/N: This is my second fic. I am quite proud of this, more than I am of Lucky. This came to me while I was walking down the beach the day of that earthquake on the East coast. My little sister and my friend Louise (teamilkonesugar[dot]tumblr[dot]com) beta-ed this for me. This is dedicated to both of them.**

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><p>I was napping in my favorite armchair, in my living room, half asleep when the front slammed shut and I awoke with a start. Jeanne was stomping into the house, sobbing into her cupped hands.<p>

"Jeanne?" I asked, concerned, as she passed my armchair on her way to the stairs.

She stopped, and slowly turned to face me, as she wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeve.

I got up from my chair, "What's going on?"

"Just - just - oh, Dad, you'll be so mad at - at me," She wailed, and threw her arms around me, and cried into my chest.

"Shh... Sweetheart. Just tell me what's wrong," I said, lightly and awkwardly patting her on the back. As much as I loved my daughter, and as much as I wanted to shatter every bone in the body of the person who made her cry like this, I still didn't feel completely comfortable comforting her, I wanted to, I just didn't think I was doing it right; I never did. When people cry around me, I just don't really know how to deal with it.

"Dad," she said, sniffling and taking a step back from me, "You should probably take a seat." She looked up at me, with big brown eyes that were shining with tears, and I did as she said.

"Ok," I said, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my legs, "What is it?"

"Dad," she took a deep breath, "Dad, I'm - I'm gay."

The silence filled the room. To say that I was shocked is a gross understatement. I let the words sink in. Those two small words were loaded with much more information than I could handle. They also raised too many questions, questions that all tried to verbalize themselves at once, resulting in my muttering and stuttering in gibberish.

"Dad? Are you ok?" Jeanne asked, looking concerned, "Did you have a stroke or something?"

I shook my head, and took a deep breath. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Sure about what? About being gay, or about you having a stroke?"

"About you being - Well, you know what."

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure."

"How do you know?"

"Dad, I just know. I don't like boys, I'm not attracted to them. I - I just like girls. How do you know that you're straight?"

I swallowed, hard, and massaged my temples with my two fingers. "But, how do you _know?_Have you ki- kissed a girl? How can you know if you haven't even kissed a girl before?" I managed to get out in barely a whisper.

"I've kissed a girl, Dad," she whispered, walked over, and rubbed circles on my back.

I exhaled deeply; this was all too much to take in. "Have you told anyone else, yet?"

"I've basically told everyone else, already, Dad," she informed me.

"Even Mom?" I asked.

"Even Mom," she confirmed.

"Wait," I pushed myself off of the couch, and stood up to face her, "Is _that_ why you were crying?"

"Well, yeah. People aren't extremely comfortable with me being out and proud and all that," She said, the floorboards suddenly extremely interesting to her.

"What did they do to you?" I asked, my voice came out as more of a growl than I intended it to.

"Nothing, really, Dad, they didn't-"

"Jeanne, tell me what they did."

"Just bullying, you know how kids are. It's mostly just taunts and a bunch of gay jokes, and stuff. But -" She glanced up at me, I just looked back at her, and tried to convey to her that she should go on, "But, I've been shoved up against a couple of lockers, and stuffed into one on one occasion."

I took a deep breath; I couldn't believe this was actually happening to me - to my daughter, to the one person who I cared about more than anything. It's true what they say, isn't it? Karma's a bitch. I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't handle my daughter's tear strewn face. I couldn't handle her red, swollen eyes. I couldn't handle the slightly purple blotch on her jaw that looked like it might be a bruise. But most of all, I couldn't handle the pleading way she looked at me, the look that was just begging. Begging me to accept her, begging me to somehow understand her. I couldn't handle any of it. I took one more look at her, walked passed her, through the front door, down the front steps, and into my red Porsche that parked right in front of the house.

I turned the key, and drove away from the house. I drove away from the wife I was never in love with. I drove away from the daughter who was always braver than me. I drove away from the bruises I was sure covered my little girl's body. I drove away from the tears. I drove away from the pleading eyes. I drove and I drove until I couldn't drive anymore.

I pulled over to the side of the road in the middle of some highway or another. I stalled the engine, and I did something I hadn't done in years, something I swore that I would never do again, I broke down and cried. I sobbed and sobbed, the tears streaming down my face and into my lap. I punched the steering wheel, as if it were every bully that taunted or physically abused my daughter. As if it were my younger self, the younger self that would have, if it had met her today, shoved my daughter into a locker and left her there to cry and plead for help. As if it were the friends I had as a teen that would have never accepted me if I had come out. As if it were every mistake I had ever made in my entire life.

Once I had finished crying until my eyes were dry, until my knuckles bled from hitting the steering wheel repeatedly. I wiped the tears from my face, and the blood onto the passenger seat beside me, and started the car again.

By the time I pulled up to the house, the sky was dark. The moon was full and hung over the house, welcoming me home.

As I walked into the McMansion, everything was silent. I dropped my keys onto the counter, and threw my jacket over the back of the closest chair.

I climbed the stairs as silently as I could, and turned left upon reaching the landing. I passed two doors, and entered the second room on the right.

It was still decorated in the wild horse wallpaper that Jeanne had personally selected when she was four. My hand found the light switch, before I realized that the light was already on.

"Dad?" Jeanne greeted me questioningly, as she raised her head from behind the 700-page book she was reading.

"Jeanne," I answered, and sat on her bed, "Jeanne, I'm so very very sorry for the way I reacted to your - to your confession."

She just nodded, acknowledging my apology, but not commenting on or accepting it.

"Jeanne, honey, sweetie, I love you. I will always love you, no matter what. I am extremely proud of you for being brave enough, comfortable enough with who you are, to be able to come out to me. It was just - I was shocked. I didn't know how to handle this. I've come to the realization that it doesn't matter who you love, or who you marry, if it's a she or a he, as long as they make you happy and treat you right, it simply doesn't matter.

"While I was - while I was, well, out. I thought about those people who - who did _that_ to you," I gestured to the bruise that was now fully formed on her jaw, "I thought about what I would do to them if I ever met them. To be frank, Jeanne, I would break every bone in their body," Despite the situation, Jeanne giggled, "I thought about what it would mean if I didn't accept you, if I didn't approve of you. It would mean that I would be just as bad, I would cause just as much hurt to you, my little baby girl, as those bullies did. I can't say that I'm ready to watch you kiss your girlfriend, once you get one, but I'm not sure I would be comfortable with that even if your girlfriend was, well, a boyfriend, I _know_ I will _accept_ you, I _know_ I _will_ defend you and your right to love and be with whoever you want. I just - I never really imagined this as a possibility, I never really thought about what my reaction to be if my little Jeanne turned out to be gay. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I reacted the way I did, I will never stop regretting the fact that I ran away when you needed me to stay. Could you ever forgive me, Jeanne?"

"Oh, Dad," Jeanne said, and flung her arms around me, a smile now dancing on her lips, "I am so happy. I can't say I was initially, but I'm, well, _delighted_ now! I didn't really ever think you'd be fine with all of this. To be honest, I was kind of expecting your initial reaction, but I'm so happy that you've changed you mind!"

"I didn't change my mind, Jeanne. I wasn't opposed to your, um, coming out. I was just in shock, I didn't know how to handle it. I reacted in the worst possible way, I know that now, but I didn't leave because I didn't approve, I left because I needed time to think."

"Well, I guess that's better," Jeanne said, sounding confused.

"It _is,_" I assured her, and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head, "Now, go to sleep, it's a school night."

"I will, Dad, just five more minutes?" she pleaded, and gave me her best puppy dog eyes.

I chuckled, "Five more minutes," I agreed.

I got off of her bed, and headed out of her room, before turning back to look at her from the doorway. There she was, my little angel, still huddled under her covers, still reading her long books that I would never even glance at at her age, still flying through the pages at a pace at which I would never be able to match. Nothing had really changed. She was still my little girl. Still the bookworm I would readCharlotte's Web to over and over again. She was still Jeanne Karofsky, still the bravest person I would ever meet.


End file.
